


water & smoke, laugh & you choke

by canonlytrans



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crockertier, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Tricksters, Unrequited Love, that's just what i'm expecting thus far, will probably need more tagging as this goes on, yeet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 04:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19143835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonlytrans/pseuds/canonlytrans
Summary: Not every kiss is a good one.(Or, John/Dave for the "fucked up kissing meme.")





	water & smoke, laugh & you choke

**Author's Note:**

> This is from https://selfsaving.tumblr.com/post/175683336078/a-fucked-up-kissing-meme-bc-who-needs, which is a GREAT rp meme, but I was like "hmm I should DEFINITELY do this for John and Dave because I'm a fucked up individual and the John&Dave Sandbox Server spurs me to do Bad Things."
> 
> I asked my friend Mix for a number from 1-20, but I fucked up and did 7 and not 8, sorry Mix. 
> 
> Number seven is: "a kiss on an injury your muse gave to mine."

Your skin is wrought with scars - this is a simple fact of life. You’re Dave Strider, and you have scars. There’s not much you know about existence, but you do know this - love comes with pain, and pain comes with scars.

Most are from Bro. He’s dead now, thank god, but most of them are from old strifes, littering your skin from head to feet. You hate them - you used to pick at them, try to stop them from scarring, but _that_ only made it worse.

You’re used to it, though.

You’re used to scar tissue.

John has your sword, and he flicks his wrist, sending you flying backwards with a gust of wind. He’s frowning, but this is just a strife, that’s all it is, he’s not going to actually hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you. He’s John, he’s your best friend, he’s one of the few things you have left in your entire goddamn life. He would never hurt you.

But you’re weaponless, and by god do you wish you hadn’t agreed to this strife.

John stalks forward, dragging the sword across the gym floor. It slices through the floor mats, and you wince at the noise, grabbing at one of the training dummies in the hopes that you’ll somehow find a sword there. John grins at you, spins the sword in his hand. “I see why this was your specibus,” he says, raising one eyebrow over his glasses. “It’s lightweight. A lot more useful than my hammer. Wayyyyy more useable in everyday stuff.”

“John,” you mumble.

“Speak up, Dave, I can’t hear you.”

You _try_ to raise your voice, but he lunges at you, knocking the training dummy to the ground with another gust of wind. You’d promised not to use your powers, so how come that didn’t apply to him, for fuck’s sake? You’d agreed on a simple set of rules: no powers, no actual injuries, no scaring Dave (which, fuck, you hated the phrasing there, like you were some sort of bird ready to take off at any given second.)

The training dummy slides past you, across the mats, and you’re left defenseless.

He raises the sword, and you throw up your arms, praying to God he won’t actually hit you - then there’s the sound of fabric ripping, and your left arm’s stinging like hell. You hit the ground with a thud, closing your eyes behind your shades.

“Dave?”

The sword clatters to the ground.

“Fuck, okay, whatever, m’cool, don’t -”

John’s at your side immediately, using his wind powers to pull the first aid kid towards you. You wince when he pulls out the bandages and alcohol wipes, but you can’t bring yourself to look at the wound. He’s pulling up your sleeves, then he sighs. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

“I know,” you mumble.

“I shouldn’t have - I should’ve - I’m so sorry.”

You almost laugh, but you don’t. Instead, you give him your left arm, and he wipes off the blood with an alcohol wipe, and that stings almost as much as the cut did. He frowns again, leans down and presses a kiss to your arm, his lips chapped against your skin. “Ugh,” he says, sticking out his tongue. “Dunno what came over me, but that was gross!”

“No shit,” you mumble, and let him finish bandaging your arm.

Love comes with pain, and not telling your best friend that you’re in love with him might be the most painful part of it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from "Dirty and Clean" by Stephanie Schneiderman, which is a fucking GREAT song, and I listened to that while writing piece number uno.


End file.
